


Problems

by freakshowsandcandy



Series: How they are: Junkrat and Roadhog [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cannibalism, Dehydration, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mental Illness, No warnings for, Random pace, Self Harm, Slow Build, Starvation, Suicide Attempt, Violence, Warning for the following, other tags may be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:42:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8377849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakshowsandcandy/pseuds/freakshowsandcandy
Summary: Everything hurts from time to time. It just happens. Why it does, Jamison did not know. He just knew that he could make it stop for a while.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something that came to my mind. I hope not to offend or to upset anyone with what is in this story.

Drag up. Move. Drag down. Move. Drag up. Move. Drag down.

Stop. 

Breathe.

Twenty seconds. 

Now clean. Carefully, slowly.

It will stop soon.

Just relax. Count to ten

1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... 7... 8... 9... 10...

Better. 

Continue cleaning. Always until finished.

Put it away. 

Time to wait for another day. 

It will be better. 

Relax. 

Sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hog is pretty strange.**

He never really spoke after being hired as Junkrat's bodyguard. It was a bit nerve wracking. He was probably judging the shorter man. Wondering how he could kill him and take all of his treasure. 

Junkrat shakes his head and looks at the man. His bodyguard.

He was moving his bike behind one of the walls near their current hide out. It was starting to get dark. Cold too. When did it start getting dark? It was nice and bright just a second ago. Weren't they just looking for something? Junkrat could not remember.

Hog suddenly grabs him and pulls him inside of the temporary hideout. Rat starts to kick and struggle against the hands holding him. They were rubbing against his ribs. It hurt. Burned. 

"Let. Go!" He swung at the man and was immediately dropped on the ground. Hog grunts and goes to a corner. A single room.

He rubs at his sides and glares the the larger man. 

"What makes ya think you can pick me up?!" He grunts again and sits by a couple of bags. He must have brought them in at some point. Oh the nerve of the guy. "Hey! You hear me?! What makes you think you can do this?"

At this point, Junkrat has stood up and kicked dirt at Hog. "Yer suppose to protect me! Not pick me up like some.... Some kindu-"

"Shut. Up." He started to count the cash and scrap they had stolen the day before. Was it the day before? Never mind that. He talked! Hoggie actually talked! Even if it was just two words. It was still great! Junkrat smiles and practically hops over to Hog. He drops down right beside of him and lays his head on one of the bags. 

"Yer talkin mate. You should talk more. It is a pretty nice voice ya be wastin." He received what he thought was a glare from the man and scooted back a bit. It was a bit... Intimidating. He did not really know how he was being looked at but it always felt like a glare. Or maybe something that meant pity. Was he seen as a crippled freak? Or just a useless sack of flesh and bones?

He chews on the inside of his cheek and sits up, beginning to mess with the small pile of scrap Hog was making. Bending strips of metal and sticking bits together was always a good distraction from thoughts like that. Roadhog was not stopping him. Probably happy that he stopped talking for a moment. 

* * *

Hours of tinkering passed. Although it did not seem like hours at all. Seconds. Minutes maybe. Quiet. Junkrat has not said a word after the look he received from Roadhog. Was he being quiet? He did not think so. He was obviously talking to someone. Even if he could not exactly see who it was. Probably Roadie. Wait no. He isn't talking. He rarely speaks.

"I don't see the problem. It will blow em up and make a pretty fine explosion. It will be big enough mate."

_it needs to be bigger..._

"Nah. It will be big enough. Any bigger and we will be blown away!" He giggles and repeats the last part again.

_needs to be bigger... he will like bigger..._

"Yeah! It is big enough though! Wait wait wait.... Why does it matter to that... To him?" It was queit. No reply. Why should it matter? Does it matter? "H-hey... Why does it-"

"Rat." Junkrat jumps and turns to look at the bigger man. Where did he come from?

"Uh... What mate?" Something had to be wrong. He does not talk unless something is wrong. Roadhog did not say anything. He picks up Rat and takes him away from his bits and bobs. Next thing he knows, he is being held close by his bodyguard in a corner of the room. 

"Go to sleep." He talked again. He is holding him. Why? Why why why? He wants to move. Run away. This is too much. His eyes start to sting. Too close. He needs to get away. He does not notice the tears. The tightness in his throat. He just feels the unwanted warmth. Roadhog starts to pet his head. 

Roadhog has seen his boss like this before. Happened once after their first week together. Same thing. The Rat would talk to himself, become reckless while tinkering, and crying. He only now decided to hold him, he may have overworked himself, and he hoped it would calm him. Help him sleep. Keep him from cutting up his hands with the metal without noticing. 

He cared about him. And when he felt the younger going still, he knew that it was safe to fall asleep with him. The day went by quickly. He hopes they can find another safe place to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed and sorry for the delay.  
> Next chapter coming soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was awful. Sorry! (TдT)  
> But hopefully this one is better! 
> 
> Little of both POVs in this chapter!

**Junkrat would not remember.**

He would not remember the crying. Would not remember being held. Oh how he wishes for Junkrat to remember. But he was glad nonetheless. Glad he could hold him. Keep him close. Safe. Even if it only lasted for a night. Roadhog finally lets go of the smaller junker and lays him on the ground carefully. No need to wake him just yet.

They had a long day ahead of them. Would take a few hours to drive to the next place. The rat had already made a plan in the time they had known eachother, which was not very long, and they were already more than halfway through it. After they got all they wanted from this place they would move on to the next. Maybe Sydney to get a boat. He personally wanted to see Kununurra one last time. After that, sail to New Zealand and then anywhere Junkrat wanted to see. 

He grabs whatever Junkrat was working on and takes it to the bike, putting it in the saddlebags for safe keeping. Looked like small traps. He did not see any chemicals near any of these creations so he did not have to worry about his bike blowing up. He would have killed his new employer for that. Or maybe turn him over to the highest bidder. If only he could convince himself to actually do that to the kid.

"Roadie?"

Speak of the devil. He must have gotten distracted with his bike and the thought of the kid. Probably for a good half hour. He turns and sees that Junkrat was stretching. He could hear the popping. The soot on his face a bit strange after having tears and even snot wiped off. He turns back to his bike after giving a grunt in response to the rat.

"So, I was... Thinkin y'know. Bout this place. Oz an all. D'ya think Sydney even has boats? Or even... those metal flyin things?"

"A plane" He had definitely forgotten about the night.

"Right right. Plane. So... wot if the place don't 'ave any of that? How we gettin out? How we leavin?"

He didn't even get to answer before Junkrat started up again. Talking about planes, boats, transportation and other information he did not bother listening to. Just focused on getting everything together. Even if it was not much. Sure they had a lot of money and well... junk. Good junk. But they could have more. Take more. They have the room and time. Always had time. No deadline, time limit, nothing.

He finished with their belongings and sighs. His back aches and begs for him to rest. But he can't complain. It was just another problem he can ignore for now. He looks back to where Junkrat was, and of course he was gone. Kid never stopped moving. Or talking. He was by the bike and dragging a bag behind him, maybe found it in the dirt, while talking about bombs and traps now. Probably thinking the larger was listening. He throws the bag into the the old side car and squeezes in next to it. He needed a new one. His current one was a rusted brown color and seems ready to fall apart.

 With Junkrat still talking, mostly to himself now, Roadhog mounts his bike. His weight making the bike lower. Junkrat had suddenly fallen quiet for just a moment but started back up with whatever he was saying as Roadhog started the bike. The kid was practically yelling so he could be heard over the roaring engine. He didn't know if he should be glad or upset with that. He does enjoy Junkrat's voice at times. He smiles under his mask and decides it to be a neutral feeling. He flexes his fingers over the handle bars and slowly moves away from their used hiding spot. Soon picking up speed on the fading road. Needed a map. But for now they can head to Yuendumu. The directions were burned into his head. 

* * *

The wind pulled at his hair. Forcing it back and making it fly. He kept talking. Talking about anything. Everything. Bombs, planes, boats, traps, scores, and so on. His throat was starting to hurt. He was yelling so he could be heard. Roadie probably wasn't listening anyway. So he stopped. Thankfully it was not midsentence. He lays his head on his dirty bag and closes his eyes. He wasn't tired. Just.... bored maybe.

He snakes his hand down to undo the prosthetic. It comes off and he feels instant relief. He hugs the prosthetic close. The warm metal is comforting. Reminds him of how he lost the leg. Strange that he remembers that above all else. Not even a pleasant memory.

_He was playing with new explosives. No, his leg was not blown off. He was a professional. The leg was cut off. Hacked and thrown away. It wasn't hurt, infected or anything. Just... needed off. He remembers a sudden feeling of... something. No name for it. He dropped his explosives, ignoring that they could infact kill him, and dropped to the ground. He didn't fell right. His arms and legs... everything felt wrong. It continued for hours on hours. He snapped and started throwing things. He was furious with everything and nothing. Upset with his body. He stood, stomped around and fell. He blamed his stupid feet and went for his knife. Looked like it belonged to some type of butcher. He started to cut his leg. Wanting the useless appendage off. Small cuts, large ones too. Blood coming from the wounds that would surely get infected. He started to slam the knife down into the leg. It was to the point that he started seeing more and more fat and bone. He was going to pass out. Loss of blood and the pain. But he kept going. Getting sloppier. He grabbed a rock and started hitting hard on the visible bone. Until it shattered. He remembers screaming and a realization that made him try to stop the blood. Cover the wound. He was lucky to even be alive now. Lucky that some junker found him._

He rubs the stump and sighs. That was dumb. He looks at Roadhog. He was focused on driving. The bodyguard once asked how he lost the leg. He lied and said he got caught stealing from others. He never asked about it again, probably believing the lie. He relaxes back onto the bag and closes his eyes once again. He was bored and hungry. Hunger he couldn't ignore. Boredom not so much. He needed something to do.

He reaches into the bag, his hand getting cut by the various sharp objects, and takes out something random. Big piece of what used to be a trap he guessed. Trash now. He rubs it up and down his arms, the feeling is nice on his skin. He drops it into the bag and grabs something else. Sharper and thinner. Scrap. He pokes his side with it and giggles. It tickles. He keeps poking and giggling until he pokes to hard. He doesn't scream or make a surprised sound. He just looks at where a dot a blood has appeared and how it stuck with the grime covering him. It stings a bit. But is nice. He pokes again. And again. More dots. More stinging. More chances of infection. He smiles and throws the scrap behind the moving bike and watches as they leave it behind. 

He stuffs his leg into the bag and pokes at it. The metal is getting warmer. The sun is getting higher. The wind cooling. Even the dust hitting his arms and neck was kind. He hopes the side car will hold together long enough to ride to.... to wherever they were going. He hopes they steal all the good shit they can find. He smiles and starts yelling over the wind and engine again. Yelling about other junkers. About good scrap and loot. Even a new side car for himself that he will make by hand. All while he keeps shaking off the feeling that Roadhog did not care.

* * *

**Finally.**

They had arrived at Yuendumu. The town was a good size, though no one lived here anymore. Many of the houses were destroyed, most of the poles had fallen, and patches of dying grass stuck out near decaying trees. It was sad. Yuendumu was full of people, more than eight hundred, that all took pride in their Aboriginal artists. Now it only takes pride in the bodies crushed beneath debris.

Roadhog stopped his bike and pulled it behind a fence that managed to survive the storms that had passed through. He and Junkrat walk through the town in search of any maps or supplies scavengers overlooked if they were lucky. 

Junkrat has disappeared behind the houses saying that he had to piss, leaving the bodyguard to search through rubble. It was not so bad. He found scrap for his gun and some torn papers and broken lighters for rat. He would find some use for it. 

He managed to find some good bits for the both of them and was already putting them in the saddlebags of his bike. Junkrat was taking his sweet time. He didn't drink enough to take this long. Roadhog decided to wait another ten to fifteen minutes until he went searching. In the meantime, he could make sure his bike was working properly for their next trip.

Junkrat has yet to return. Maybe he forgot where the bike was? Or dropped dead after some arachnid or reptilian creature bit him. Roadhog laughs at the image of his boss being chased by geckos of various sizes. There would be one stuck to his nose and another caught in the prosthetic panicking. Junkrat would probably eat the poor lizards after the whole ordeal. At least if that happened they would have more food.

He sighs and moves away from the bike. He needs to find rat. He likes taking his time but this is ridiculous. Hopefully he did not find trouble. Although that would be kinda fun. Roadhog walks the way he saw Junkrat go and wondered if the town was really empty. There were firepits that still had embers, empty cans thrown around, and what looked to be bits of clothing. No rat. He moves to check the still standing homes. No rat. Behind fences? No rat. Under debris? No rat.

He was getting more and more worried. Where is the rat? Where is his boss? His pace started to quicken as he looks almost frantically. 

"Rat!"

No response.

"Junkrat!"

Still no response. 

Where the hell is he?


	4. Chapter 4

**"No, please! Help me!"**

He heard the scream. Not Rats' voice. Someone else, and they sound scared. Maybe hurt. He almost runs to the source of the noise and is greeted by quite the sight. It's not the first time Roadhog has seen this. And he should have suspected it to happen sooner or later. They were both hungry and haven't eaten in a while. He decided to take a seat and rest while his boss tore into the now dead junker. Probably a scavenger by the looks of his clothes. Must have a bag or two somewhere. Look for it later, when Rat is done eating the man. It is a bit strange to Roadhog. Not everyday you get to see a cannibal in action. A bit exciting in a way. New way of killing for him, not that he would do it anytime soon. He could go another few days without food. Glad Rat found someone instead of trying to take him down.

Rat finally finishes and giggles as he tries to wipe blood off his face and arms. There is still meat in his teeth when he smiles. He jumps when he sees the enforcer standing and brushing dust off of his pants.

"When the 'ell did you get 'ere?" He cocks his head to the side and stares. Roadhog responds with a grunt and points back towards the bike and makes his way back. Rat follows. "So.... where to? I mean this was nice an all but there ain't nothin here. Why come?" He doesn't respond, just leads him back to the bike and lets him sit down in the sidecar. Instead of starting the bike he gives the boss a cloth and goes to a hole in the ground. He digs a bit deeper and takes a stash of supplies he once hid here. Just simple items. Use em later. He goes back to the bike and tosses it in a saddle bag. Rat immediately scrambles to see what it is while Hog settles onto the bike. He grunts at Rat and starts the bike. Takes a moment but he responds with a grunt himself, which surprises the bigger but he ignores it for now and starts moving.

They ride around the little town, seeing if there are any other scavengers. If there were, they'd probably be running after seeing their dead mate. So far though, the two have seen no sign of others. A bit strange. They drove around for another half hour making sure. They spotted a man who started running when he saw the source of the roaring of the engine. _Too slow._ Roadhog thinks as he runs the man under the tires. They both laughed and Hog let Rat jump off the bike to grab whatever the poor sucker had. He even cut off the mans' arm for later. He better keep the blood off his things. They check around once more and make their way back onto the path the were once on and head south.

 _We'll keep going for a few more hours. Then make camp._ He thinks to himself. He glances at the sky and sees the sun is getting closer to the horizon. The temperature is still high but he knows it will change when it gets dark. The mutated animals will come out, there will be less junkers out and about, and it will be cold. Only a day or two left, and they'll make it to Sydney. Or what is left of it.

* * *

He digs around in the new bag. Junk, junk, more junk, junk.

"Oh, a goodie!" He pulls out tiny plastic bags of powder. Obviously explosive if mixed just right! He giggles and pulls out a little home made blueprint from his almost brand new satchel. He has the big brute to thank for getting it. Along with the newer arm. He smiles. What would he do without the brute? The paper blows harshly in the wind. He throws the bag back into a saddle bag and tries to straighten out the blueprint. Obviously not happening.

He picks at the corners of the blueprint, occasionally muttering to himself about new materials and powders he needs. It's a pain in the ass but he will need it for... for what? They were going somewhere. He knows he needs it for something. But what? He throws everything back in the bags before they fly out of his hands in the wind that stands against them. He looks at the large man and tries to remember where they were heading. Maybe somewhere.... south... north... no no east. Well... where ever they were headed, he knows that there will be fun to had. He cackles and throws his arms in the air.

"WE ARE GOIN PLACES! NICE, BIG PLACES MA-" He is slammed against the metal of the side car and the bag as the bike makes a sudden stop. He was lucky not to be thrown out and dragged by the speed against the ground ahead. Very gruesome image. He catches his breath but there is pain.

**He's bleeding. Alot.**

Sharp utensils that may have been in the bag cut into his abdomen when they had to suddenly stop. He grazed over the open wounds and screamed. Giant hands pick him up and cover his mouth. Slobber and snot on the hand as two others struggle to get him free. His cries are muffled, the giant running behind rocks that would never cover him entirely. Calloused fingers and gloved palms prod at the bleeding wounds, applying pressure and wrapping something around. He squirms, kicks, and spits. The pain, it hurts. He feels like his insides are burning, or maybe its just the outside and he can't tell the difference.

Roadhog continues his work over Rats' body when a gunshot rings through the air. Boots getting closer, multiple people. He was frozen as the giant continued. Were they going to be killed? What's going to happen? Does he have a plan? The barrel of a gun is set on top of the rock and unfamiliar faces grin with broken jagged teeth.

"Looky 'ere.... the little bitch is 'urt. And looks like the piggy is trying to fix em? How sweet." The face is male, voice is sick. Nasty, nasally, must have a broken nose. All Rat does is stare. It's not long before hog quickly grabs the man and pulls him over the rock and smashing the skull into the hard surface, skull shattering rather quickly with the amount of force given.  

Blood splatters on his face, the rock, the monsters mask. Suddenly there is screaming as more footsteps sound through the area. Rat is frozen. 

He stares at the hook that is thrown from the other side of the rock. 

And he finds himself horrified, as it pierces the shoulder of the bodyguard and pulls.


End file.
